


Beginnings

by Spootilious



Series: My Dearest Procyon [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Fantasy, M/M, Magic-Users, Magical Boys, Multi, Prinxiety - Freeform, logicality - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spootilious/pseuds/Spootilious
Summary: Backstory for each character in My Dearest Procyon.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Logan - Relationship, Logic | Logan Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Other(s), Morality | Patton Sanders/Everyone, janus - Relationship
Series: My Dearest Procyon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081163
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Logan

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Probably blood at some point. Definitely pain. Starvation. Freezing. Idk what else but... Read at your own risk and let me know if I need to add.

Logan grunted as his knees slammed into the stone floor, sending a jolt of pain up his body, sending it forward, forcing him to catch himself, arms outstretched. The cool dampness seeped into his palms with unnatural speed as the sound of the door to his cell echoed against the mildewed walls.

He didn’t bother glancing behind him. He knew what he would find there; the light of the lantern forming the shadowy silhouettes of his imprisoners as they retreated, leaving the darkness to pounce on his huddled and already shivering form.

He straightened slightly, pulling his tattered cloak around himself for what little warmth it offered. He knew it would be hopeless, he had helped construct these dungeons. The bone piercing temperature was an enchantment of his own design. It wouldn’t be enough to kill him, just torture him for the length of his stay.

Pushing to his feet, he stumbled over to the rotting wooden bench in the corner. It was the only adornment to the room aside from the dripping icicles that hung from the ceiling and the black hued moss padding a few of the cracks in the wall. The wood at least provided him a bit of a barrier between him and the stone floor, the porous material sucking his body heat like a man dying of thirst. He needed to stay as warm as possible, needed to keep his head. He could not allow for Noname to win.

He curled closer around himself, drawing his knees up to his chest. He was tired… So, very tired…  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Logan’s quill scratched against parchment in quick short strokes. He had to get these notes taken quickly before anyone saw. They were imperative to their goal and if others were to discover their purpose-

“Very good, Logan,” A familiar soothing voice came causing Logan to glance up. Noname stood next to him smiling down at Logan. “This is wonderful work. We’re going to do great things and it's all because of you.”

Logan couldn’t help but return the smile, pride filling him as he peered up into his friend’s face. “None of it would be possible without your help.” Noname looked so young as he spoke, the lines of his face smooth.

“I’m always happy to help. You’ve done so much for me, it’s the least I can do,” Logan found himself replying. He meant every word. He would do anything for the man next to him. The man who had given him power, had opened his library, his studies, his-

Something was wrong. Logan blinked slowly, his mind beginning to clear. This was… a memory? No, that wasn’t right, everything was just a little too off. A dream perhaps? He glanced around the small study. The walls were a strange shimmering shade of grey, while the furniture and books around him were perfectly in focus. Yes, this had to be a-

“Wow, how long ago was this?” A new voice came, causing Logan to spin in surprise. “He looks barely older than I am.” The man before Logan stood a few inches shorter than him, with a large cloak that seemed far too big for his slight frame and a pair of piercingly violet eyes that could unnerved even the most stoic of individuals.

Logan’s gaze narrowed as he studied the stranger. No, stranger was the wrong word. There was something familiar about him. He knew him from somewhere. Why couldn’t he place him? Surely, he wouldn’t have forgotten such odd eyes.

“A little of fifteen years, if I am not mistaken,” Logan answered, his attention turning back to the image of his friend. Well, he supposed he wasn’t a friend now.

“Fifteen years?” The newcomer asked, arching a brow in surprise. “You’re not that old.”  
“No,” Logan agreed. “No, I am not. But I have known him for a very long time.” Why was he admitting these things? What was it about this place that made him want to be so honest? He lifted a hand to straighten the yellow handkerchief protruding from Noname’s coat pocket, allowing his fingers to brush against the fabric in languish.

“Since you were a kid?” The violet eyed man asked.

“Yes, though it is difficult to see myself as such.” He gave a small, pained huff of amusement before finally lifting his gaze from the coat packet and back up into Noname’s face. “Even when I was young, I was far more mature than most.”

“Is that why you sought him out? Because you didn’t fit in?” The other asked, sounding surprised.

Logan supposed that some saw it that way, but it was such a simplistic and direct notion. Nothing was ever that simple. No, not with him.

“I didn’t seek him out,” Logan corrected, finally turning from his friend once more, remorse twisting his stomach as he faced his unknown companion. “He was the one that came to me.”

“So, he knew then?”

“Knew what?” Logan asked, though something told him he was supposed to already know. Whatever it was it was important. He could feel his heartrate quicken and his shoulders tense. Why was his body so on edge over the question?

“Knew what you would become,” the man replied simply, studying him.

“What I would become? He made me what I am. Of course, he knew.” Logan’s brows furrowed as he scoffed out his answer. He paused, his confusion deepening. The books and furniture around him flickered slightly. “No… That… That isn’t what you…” The ground seemed to shake, causing him to stumble. Everything seemed to into what felt like water, the light fading slowly as Logan’s feet drifted from beneath him.

“Huh…” he heard the other man breath curiously. “You broke faster than I expected. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” His voice grew fainter with ever word. He seemed to be getting farther and farther away as the world around him turned to darkness once more.


	2. Matchbox boy

Logan started awake, his heavy breathing causing small white puffs in front of him. What was that? He hadn’t dreamed of Noname like that in years. And who was that stranger?

Even now the details of the other man’s face were fading with the dream, as they always did. If only he had something to write down the details of the dream. He glanced about the cell, the shadows covering everything with a layer of ebony. Even if he could see, he was certain there would be nothing to find, and he was extremely hesitant to unravel himself from where he was curled, determined to contain his body heat.

He could feel himself shivering. The fact that he had managed to fall asleep in the first place was nothing short of a miracle. His back ached from where he had been whipped. The wounds were healing well enough considering how little he was fed. He was sure they’d be nothing more than faint lines by now. At least he no longer had to worry about them breaking open with every movement.

A flash of red-orange light caught his eye. The sliver burst into the room, practically blinding him for a moment. He blinked against the force of it, eyes watering slightly at the sting, trying to pinpoint its source. As quickly as it had appeared however, it was gone, leaving nothing more than the ghosts of an outline on his retinas.

It had come from the opposing wall, of that much he was sure.

He hesitated, considering if he really wanted to move from his spot to investigate. It would do him little good to remain where he was. Nothing would change. He would still be locked away, in blackness, with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

He shifted, turning to drape his feet over the side of the bench, numb toes brushing against the rough stone floor. Wrapping an arm around his chest, he stood, padding over to the opposite wall, using an outstretched hand and his memory to guide him.

When his fingers finally met with resistance, another wave of the same unnatural coldness permeated his very bones. He gasped softly, the feeling making his shaking double.

“It won’t kill me,” he reminded himself. His voice seemed excessively loud in the silence of his cell, making his heart quicken a bit more as he let his hand slide across the stone and moss.

Judging from the trajectory of the light, he assumed it had to have come from a spot no higher than his shoulder. He couldn’t just stand there blindly groping for the source. That was far too impractical. He would freeze to death by then.

He paused, annoyed with himself at the thought. Once again, he reminded himself that the cold was nothing more than an illusion created by his own magic. It was nothing to fear. The only thing to worry about was his own reaction to it. He had to stay calm.

Still, he didn’t want to be there all night (or was it day?) searching for something he might have imagined. Even with the ghost outline still fading from his vision, Logan second guessed himself. 

No… It had been there. He just had to find it.

He could split the wall into small imaginary grids, taking it grid by grid until he found it. It would be tedious work, but it would take far less time than having to backtrack to test portions he may or may not have covered. There was little reason not to. His body could use the opportunity for a bit of exercise, even if it was so minute.here was very little else to occupy his mind. 

And so, he began at one end of the wall, moving slowly to allow his icy digits to study the stone beneath them. He moved down the wall, then back up again, forcing his knees to bend as he worked, feeling his muscles burn despite the cold. Minutes turned into an hour, an hour turned into two. Nothing came of his work. There was nothing more than moss and stone. He had nothing to show for his effort but an aching body and an acceptance of his oncoming insanity.  
……………………………………………………………  
Logan shivered, pulling his tattered clothing more tightly around himself as he huddled against the crates. 

He kicked some of the snow surrounding him, trying to get it away from his frozen body. It was all he could do to stay warm. 

The crunch-crunch of footfalls in the snow had him perking up. 

A customer! 

He willed his frozen legs to hurry down the alley and into the street where he spotted a well dressed couple laughing as they made their way along the sidewalk.Logan didn’t speak as he rushed towards them, the freshly fallen powder covering his bare feet, numbing them. 

The man pulled the woman next to him to a stop, a look of disgust painting his features as Logan, in his filth and rags approached, holding up a small origami bird and an empty hand, begging for coins. 

The man whispered something to the faceless woman making her laugh before he kicked Logan in the side, sending him to the ground, holding his cracked ribs. 

For good measure, the man kicked him again, sending him skidding across the ground and hitting the wall of a nearby shop.

Logan didn’t get up.

The cold enveloped him.

He grew tired… so tired…

Would it be so bad if he just fell asleep there?

Would anyone even notice?

“And I thought I had it bad,” his dream companion commented, causing Logan’s eyes to shoot open. 

The man’s shoes stood only a few feet away from Logan’s face as he peered down at the boy. No, Logan was no longer a boy. His rags had been replaced with his usual tunic and trousers, his body growing into manhood quickly.

“Judging from the fact that you’re currently trapped in a dungeon, I assume you didn’t die here.” The man commented, offering a hand out to pull Logan up.

“No,” Logan nodded, accepting the help. “No, I didn’t die, not physically anyways.” 

The purple eyed man’s brows furrowed in confusion at the words. “I don’t understand.”

Logan brushed the snow off of his clothing, glancing back at where the indent of his childhood body was still imprinted.

“There are a great number of ways a man can die,” Logan mumbled softly, “The physical death is perhaps the most merciful.” 

His companion stared at him for a long moment, letting the words sink in. 

“My hope for humanity died that day,” Logan admitted, turning away from the scene.

“From one beating?” the other man asked, making Logan snort.

“This was not an isolated incident, but a daily occurence,” Logan clarified, walking into the shimmering dreamscape, away from the icy coldness of both his emotions and the snow.

His companion hesitated, still peering down at the child sized indent for a few moments before hurrying after.

“Then why dream of this one in particular? What makes it so bad?” 

Logan eyed him wearily. It was the first time in these interactions that he felt any continuous emotion aside from apathy. Still, he answered. 

“I had been starving for longer than usual. It was the worst winter in a very long time. I had been forced to sleep in the snow before, but without proper clothing, nutrition, or money, I was closer to dying than ever.” The feeling of that winter haunted him to this day, the icy fingers of death gripping him so tightly he couldn’t breath. 

It was the main inspiration for the enchantments currently torturing him in his cell. 

“But you didn’t die. So, what happened? How’d you survive?” The man asked excitedly, pulling Logan to a stop. “Was it Noname? Did he finally find you?”

Logan snorted in amusement, facing the younger man. “Hardly,” he spat. “No, Noname wouldn’t find me until I had what he wanted. That’s the way he works, even back then.”

“Then how’d you do it?” 

Logan pursed his lips, obviously debating how much to tell. 

The other man frowned. With a wave of his hand, he seemed to erase Logan’s concerns, turning him back to the apathetic nature he had grown accustomed to in these dreams.

“How did you survive?” The man asked again. 

Logan lifted his own hand, palm up, gaze shifting to stare down at the small flame that appeared there. 

“I discovered the theory of Ouroboros,” Logan stated. 

“The what?” The other man asked in confusion.

“Magic. I discovered magic,” Logan huffed in defeat. 

“What was your source? Who did you make a deal with?!” The other man rushed, obviously surprised. 

“No one. It is one of the reasons Noname sought me out. I used myself as-”

Logan jerked as he was pulled away from the other man suddenly. It was a disorienting feeling.

“NO!” His companion cried in anger. “We’re so close!”

His voice began to mingle with the sound of others as they grew louder in his ears.


	3. The Morals of Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and Logan discuss morality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try and update once a week. Hopefully... If everything runs smoothly.
> 
> Thank you to the most amazing person I've ever met GilbyJuly4th, for beta reading everything I write and for all the support <3

Logan was yanked from where he curled around himself atop his bench, hitting the ground with a solid thud.

He didn’t bother trying to fight. He knew how this went. It wasn’t the first time he had been dragged from his slumber by the brutes that worked for Noname. 

Two pairs of rough hands gripped him under the arms and dragged him up off the floor. He tried to stand, but weakness that had set in from hunger left his legs practically useless. 

The men paid no mind as they carried him out of the cell to be tortured once more. 

Despite his dread, Logan didn’t protest or whimper. No, this was expected. At least there was one good thing that came out of it: he’d get away from that bone chilling cold for just a little bit. 

…………………..

By the time Logan was tossed back into his cell, like a sack of potatoes fresh off the wagon, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been gone.

He didn’t bother to move off the frozen stone floor or wrap his clothing more tightly around himself. Everything hurt far too much. 

It must have been days. He had drifted in and out of consciousness throughout his time with Noname’s Confessor, but he wasn’t sure if that was from the pain or exhaustion. Logically, he knew that he wouldn’t die from this torture. Noname would send a healer soon enough to ensure that.

He groaned, shifting to relieve some of the weight on his dislocated shoulder, flopping onto his back and hissing from the whip lashes that still oozed. 

He peered up at the moss covered ceiling, his vision beginning to blur. What he wouldn’t give for an end to all of his suffering. 

The world began to fade.

He couldn’t give in. He couldn’t give Noname the information he was searching for. 

Suddenly, everything went black.

…………………………………

Logan huddled around himself, a small flame dancing between his fingers. 

He coughed weakly, curling closer around the little heat that the small flame produced, ignoring the sound of people milling past his small alley in the busy street. 

“Ah, there you are!” a silky voice came, causing Logan to glance up at the well dressed man. “I thought I sensed magic. Though, I have to say, finding someone so young is a surprise.” 

Noname bent low, offering out a hand to the young Logan, who shied away from the movement, obviously expecting to be struck. 

“Don’t worry, Kiddo,” Noname cooed softly. “I’m not going to hurt you. How about you come with me and we get you a nice meal and some warm clothes?” 

Logan eyed him suspiciously, but the mention of food had his stomach growling. 

“Come on now, I know you must be-”

“So this is how it happened,” Logan’s dream companion commented, appearing just over Noname’s shoulder. “It’s about time.”

Logan pushed himself to his feet, becoming aware of the dream just as he always did when the other man appeared. 

“Why are you so interested in my meeting with Noname, anyway?” Logan asked, brushing off the snow from his trousers. 

“You’re the oldest of his followers,” the violet eyed man pointed out, as he circled the unmoving man in question. “No one really knows anything about you, aside from the fact that you’re his seer.”

“Was his seer,” Logan corrected. “Now I’m nothing more than his prisoner.” 

“A seer that disobeyed him,” the companion commented, pulling himself up to sit on one of the crates. 

“With good reason,” Logan countered. Something tugged at his mind. There were so many pieces to this puzzle and yet he couldn’t put it together. Who was this man, what was his interest in Logan, and why did he seem so familiar? 

As if sensing Logan’s confusion, the companion waved his hand, quickly replacing it with the ever present apathy that accompanied these dreams. 

“I dunno,” the younger man said pointedly, “it seems like a prolonged amount of torture and your enevitable death would be reason enough not to disobey him.” 

“The things I’ve seen,” Logan replied, “They are reason enough to endure such treatment.” He moved to study the younger face of his old friend. Noname had been quite handsome back then, with kind features and a warm smile. Logan couldn’t help but stare, just for a moment. The man before him no longer existed, that much was clear.

The feeling of loss made his chest constrict painfully. 

“What did you see?” The dream companion asked, peering at Logan eagerly. 

Logan tensed at the question, his head suddenly beginning to pound. The dream around them shook violently, tossing his companion off of the crate with only the blanket of snow to cushion his fall. 

“Nevermind!” The fallen man cried, not having expected such a violent reaction from Logan. It appeared he’d have to ease his way into that particular topic. Luckily his dismissal seemed to work in calming Logan, or at least stop the dream world from collapsing around them.

“And they call me temperamental,” the violet eyed man scoffed as he pulled himself to his feet, bushing off his dark cloak. “So, Noname found you. Then what?”

The image began to fade at the question. The unmoving version of Noname shimmered before dissolving into the snow, replaced by a large table inside a crowded inn.

Logan turned towards the new scene, catching sight of Noname.He sank down on an empty bench as his old friend placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of him.

“So, tell me about yourself, Kiddo,” Noname smiled, sitting across from him. “Where are your parents?”

Logan didn’t answer as he watched him, studying his features. His heart ached for this man, just as it had done before. Not the man that currently held him prisoner, but the man before him; the one that had pulled him off the streets and offered him safety and warmth.

“Whoa! Slow down! You’re going to make yourself sick,” Noname laughed. Logan noticed for the first time that the bowl of stew seemed to be emptying itself out, sloshing over the sides as if someone was currently ravishing it. 

Noname turned to call for another bowl before the image froze.

“Seeing him like this is creepy,” the companion commented, suddenly at Logan’s shoulder once more. “He seems so…” the man grimaced, “.… Smiley.”

“He was like that back then,” Logan nodded, giving his own soft smile.

“When did he turn?” The companion asked, erasing Logan’s smile instantly.

The scene dissolved into another new dream. 

Noname stood perched on a large pedestal built in the center of a crowded courtyard A light shone from his chest and the crowd of people shuffled closer and closer. 

Logan brushed past them as they parted to make way. Soon he stood at the base of a large flowing fountain. 

Noname smiled down at Logan. He bent to cup his hands into the water and offered them out for the man to drink. Logan obeyed. Noname’s shine dimmed just slightly as Logan’s own incandescence appeared. When Logan stepped back into the crowd, another man stepped forward. Noname bent, scooping water before offering it out. His glow faded again.The process repeated. 

“Sharing a source of magic doesn’t turn someone evil,” The companion commented, pulling Logan’s attention.

“Noname is not evil,” Logan chided with a glare. 

“How can you say that after everything he’s done to you?” the other man demanded with confusion. 

“Evil is a construct that keeps humanity in what we consider a moral line, but it is not a force or a being. Evil is an act which we consider bad,” Logan lectured. “A person does not turn evil.”

“Whatever you say,” the companion scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “My question still stands.”

“If you are trying to understand what made him who he is, perhaps you should understand this,” Logan sighed, obviously not too enthused by the line of conversation. “If a man murders another in order to save the lives of the ones he cares about, does that make him evil?”

“Well…” the companion mumbled, obviously considering the scenario, “no.”

“And yet, he has still committed murder,” Logan replied.

“Yes, but for a good reason,” the companion countered.

“So, an inherently evil act can be considered good if the reasons are justified?”

“I… suppose so,” The companion shrugged, “I don’t think I understand where this is going.” 

“Of course you don’t,” Logan retorted, earning a glare. “Noname was a good man who cared greatly for those who found themselves in need. He was willing to share himself with each and every one of them until-”

“Until there was nothing left,” The companion realized, peering over his shoulder at the now dimly lit man who still scooped water. 

Logan nodded. “If you give too much of yourself away, it can be hard to continue to see the good in the world. You lose sight of what is important.Instead of doing what’s right or good, you fight to support others.” Logan nodded towards the shadow of the man in question. “You starve for power and will do anything it takes to obtain it because without it you lose the ones you’ve struggled to care for and that…” He paused, shaking his head, the image obviously paining him. “Well, that is worse than death itself.”

Silence fell for a moment as Logan’s companion took the words in. 

“You’re telling me that Noname does what he does out of love?” He scoffed. “That’s a bit hard to believe.”

“No,” Logan huffed in mirthless amusement. “No, I’m telling you that is how it started. He’s since lost sight of that. All he knows now is the thirst for power.”

“Which is why you disobeyed him?” 

“In part,” Logan nodded, turning away from the scene, unable to watch any longer. “I am a seer. I’ve seen many things. Some of which has proven to me that my decision is one I doubt I will ever regret.”

“So, you saw the outcome of his next endeavor?” The companion asked. 

“I saw a few outcomes, yes.”

“So, what the big deal. Why not tell him?”

Logan pinned him with a flat stare. “Knowledge is power. You should keep that in mind. That’s what these dream interrogations are all about, aren’t they?” Logan asked, feeling no small amount of pride at the surprised look the other man gave. “Yes, I knew what was happening despite your attempts to keep my mind clouded. I’ve seen what Noname will have to do to gain the power he seeks. I’ve seen how he can accomplish it and how he can lose it. Noname knows this. He also knows that the likelihood that he will obtain that power without my assistance is very slim. More importantly I have seen the outcome of what will happen if Noname succeeds.” 

“So, what if-”

“No!” Logan snapped, taking a step forward, his eyes starting to shimmer with an eerie blue light. “Let me be clear, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you pry, no matter how much flesh they tear from my body, I will NOT help him achieve his goals! Noname does not care what happens IF he manages to take the power he wants. He only cares that he succeeds in obtaining it. And if you have any self-preservation or care for your fellow man, you will see to it that he never does!”

Virgil staggered back as Logan’s power engulfed his own, bringing the younger man’s name to the forefront of Logan’s mind. Yes, He remembered him! Virgil had barely been older than Logan had been when he was taken in. He had-

“I’m not a coward!” Virgil yelled angrily, straightening. “I’m not the one wasting away in a cell because he’s afraid of power!” 

“Ha!” Logan laughed coldly, “I am willingly marching towards my own death and you think that is cowardice! I would hate to see your definition of bravery,” 

“Don’t you get it?!” Virgil snapped in response, though he found himself sinking back at the sound of Logan’s laughter. “The more powerful Noname gets the more powerful we all do!” 

Logan’s amusement evaporated instantly, anger flooding him. The dreamscape began to shake just as it had done before, making Virgil stumble to keep his balance. 

“You’re just like the rest of them.” Logan growled, “So power hungry. So selfish.” Logan’s presence seemed to grow. At first the sense was something intangible, like the an empath could feel another’s distress. Then, Logan’s physical form grew, doubling in size in a matter of seconds.

“I am not doing this for my sake you imbecile! I’m doing it for him! For you! For all of y-”

Virgil snapped, his fingers sliding against one another, the sound echoing in Logan’s mind.


End file.
